Crossing the Rubicon
by arienai
Summary: More than once Marik had decided that his idea was an extremely stupid one and that he should take the next plane back home.


**Written for yugioh_contest at livejournal. The prompt was: Door**

Note: **Crossing the Rubicon** is a metaphor for deliberately proceeding past a point of no return.

* * *

Staring at the door in front of him, Marik took a deep breath, more than a little relieved.

"Okay, this is it."

After spending more than an hour wandering around Domino, occasionally asking for directions from random passersby, he was finally standing behind Ryou Bakura's door.

Just remembering all that it took to get here made him grimace in disgust. More than once he had decided that his idea was an extremely stupid one and that he should take the next plane back home. But despite everything, he persevered. The absolute worst was his first stop, the game shop...

He grit his teeth as his hands clenched into fists in his pockets. It had hurt. The way they looked at him. Like he was... crazy. But he wasn't. Not anymore. And they knew it. Whereas Yugi was simply wary of him, Honda and Anzu were slightly distrusting, and Jonouchi was plain spiteful.

And to think that he stopped by just to ask for Bakura's address.

They didn't even believe him at first! He had to actually repeat himself. And he hated that.

Naturally, something as simple as getting someone's address couldn't be easy for him. Apparently, none of them remembered Bakura's address. He had found it strange, and Anzu had been quick to explain. She said that Bakura had moved recently. Back to his parents' house. On the other side of the town. In Marik's opinion, it seemed like a sorry excuse. They were friends weren't they? They should still know.

The situation had been suffocating in its awkwardness. Thinking back, Marik couldn't remember even a single situation where he had felt more ill at ease than back at the game shop, waiting for Yugi to find the piece of paper, which had Bakura's address on it, from somewhere inside the confines of the shop. Not that Yugi giving him the paper did anything to ease the tension. When Yugi awkwardly offered to show him the way, he had been quick to decline, afraid of the beating he was sure to receive on the way, if Jonouchi's face was of any indication.

Even if going alone took him longer, he had arrived in a fine physical condition at least. Though mentally, he was a nervous wreck.

Now that he was here, on Bakura's doorstep, everything he had done to the other boy during Battle City felt ten times worse. And it had been bad to begin with. He had, either directly or indirectly, caused both physical and mental pain to innocent people. And Ryou Bakura had been unfortunate enough as to be possessed by Marik's accomplice at the time, Yami Bakura. And though the spirit was hardly without fault either, Marik had been the one to indirectly cause the knife wound on Bakura's arm. And it had been him who had been ready to risk Bakura's already endangered life by putting him in front of Osiris' attack. And know he had the guts to show up on the poor guy's house to apologize?

What the hell was wrong with him. Nevermind getting all this out of his chest, he was sure he couldn't take any more scorn from people he would have liked to consider as friends.

Even if he deserved it. All of it.

Just as he started to think that maybe leaving for Egypt would be for the best after all, he noticed that his traitorous arm had already moved, and his finger was getting quite close and comfortable with the doorbell. Hearing the cheerful tone of the bell echo on the other side of the door, he could but stare at his own hand in absolute horror. He hadn't even made the decision to touch the damn thing! He wasn't done panicking! He wasn't ready yet!

The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped him back to reality, and he found himself staring blankly at Ryou Bakura's puzzled expression.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Marik." He corrected automatically. The other just blinked.

"Pardon?"

"Not 'sir'. Just Marik Ishtar."

"Then, Ishtar-san. May I inquire as to why you are standing on my doorstep?"

The paler of the two was smiling, slightly amused, whereas Marik was completely frozen in place, his finger still on the doorbell. It took him a while to get coherent sounds out of his suddenly dry mouth.

"I- I came to talk to you."

"To me? What for?"

"You don't remember me?"

Marik wasn't sure if he should be disappointed or relieved by the fact. Bakura frowned, studying the other's face before speaking.

"Are you... A friend of Yugi-kun's?"

Marik grimaced, averting his eyes.

"Well, not exactly..."

"Ah, I see." Bakura smiled, understanding. "Well, Ishtar-san, if you would be so kind to separate your finger from my doorbell, I could offer you some tea in my kitchen while we talk."

"I don't want to bother you or anything..."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all! Please, do come in!"

Stepping inside the quiet house, Marik felt extremely out of place. Bakura lead him through tidy, comfortable-looking rooms to a small kitchen where he pointed a chair for Marik to sit on and set out to making some tea.

Chewing on his lip, Marik stared at Bakura's back, not really seeing it. He wondered if the other boy had a scar in his arm. He had to have one, with the amount of blood that had come out of the wound it was bound to-

"Here you go."

A small cup of tea was placed on the table in front of him with a small 'clink'. Marik blinked.

"Ah, thank you." He took hold of the cup, but didn't drink, resorting to stare at the liquid instead, while Bakura added sugar, milk and some cookies on the table.

Marik didn't dare to look up, even after hearing the other sit down and take several sips of his own tea.

Finally, Marik cleared his throat, a little awkwardly, deciding to take the initiative.

"So..."

Bakura didn't react. Marik sighed, risking a glance at the other boy, just to see him staring out of the window on his left.

"Umm, what I needed to talk about-"

"I know why you are here." The other said softly, interrupting him, but still keeping his eyes on the window. Marik blinked, a little surprised, and commenced to stare as Bakura finally tore his gaze off the window to look Marik in the eye. All the while smiling gently. "And I also know exactly who you are, Marik Ishtar-san."

The Egyptian found himself too shocked to do anything but stare and gape.

"You don't have to say anything. Thank you for coming Ishtar-san, I appreciate the gesture." Bakura's smile got a little wider. "I don't get many visitors."

Marik was flabbergasted. This was it? Now everything was okay? A visit was all it took to get Bakura's forgiveness? Marik frowned, even if the other thought it was enough, he sure didn't.

"Bakura-"

"Ryou." The other interrupted once again, his voice a little more stern than before.

"What?"

"Please, call me Ryou."

Marik was confused.

"But, Yugi and the others-"

"I am aware."

Bakura smiled at him, and Marik couldn't stop the grin that spread on his face as he realized what the other was implying.

"Fine then, Ryou. But you'll have to call me Marik. And not any of this 'san' and 'kun' crap either. Just Marik."

"All right then. Just Marik."

Now they were both grinning like idiots. And as Marik raised the cup to his lips, taking a sip for the first time since it had been set in front of him, he couldn't help but to think that more than one door had been opened for him today by Ryou Bakura. Both literally and figuratively.


End file.
